Chicago books pt. 2

Some more books I read whilst on vacation:

1. Autobiography of a Fat Bride by Laurie Notaro. This was my friend Kristen's book. She and I had a long talk about why I read such "serious" books (though I don't really think I do, but perhaps I don't have the proper perspective); we came to the conclusion that it's because, unlike her (who is in grad school, and tutors for a living), I get most of my intellectual stimulation through my choice of reading material, rather than from school or whatever. Don't get me wrong, I like my life and I'm not saying it's completely devoid of wit, but I'm not eating lunch at an Algonquin Round Table every day, you know?

That being said, this book was more on the frippery side than what I usually read. It was a set of stories/vignettes about Notaro's life, mostly about the single scene and getting married. Amusing enough; she definitely has an ear for funny crap, but the mechanics of her writing are really poor. She suffers from the inability to use the word "said," and instead feels the need to make everyone's words action-oriented: cried, moaned, shouted. (See also: Meyer, Stephanie.) Good vacation reading, but I probably won't pick anything else up by this author.

2. A People's History of the Supreme Court by Peter Irons: I will tell you a secret. I have started this book two times and haven't ever made it more than about 1/3 of the way through. It's a subject I WANT to like, but it's obvious that the author has spent most of his adult life wading through legalese. Irons himself is pretty cool: in the intro he says that he spent 3 years in federal prison for draft-dodging, whereupon he began a correspondence with my personal Jesus, Howard Zinn. After he was released, he went to law school, helped defend Ellsburg, and became a law professor.

But this book is dry, dry like bread left in the toaster overnight. I often find early American history to be such a riotous subject. Bitches was crazy back then! But this book makes even things like the XYZ Affair and Zenger's sedition trial into tedious subjects. The whole point of the book is that it's supposed to be accessible to anyone, even if they don't have a law background, but unfortunately it only succeeds about half the time. Eventually I WILL finish this, mostly because I borrowed it from Elise and I need to give it back someday.

3. Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself by David Lipsky. Continuing in a similar vein, this is a book about a Rolling Stone reporter who accompanied David Foster Wallace for one leg of his Infinite Jest tour. The feature article never happened, apparently; RS axed it at the last minute, which Lipsky said in his introduction was a relief to Wallace. And I don't doubt it, after reading this book. It shows us what we all knew all along about the man: that he was intelligent, to the point where it was pretty much crippling. He was a relentless deconstructionist, worrying constantly about the way he was going to come across (not only to RS and its audience, but Lipsky himself), wondering if his thoughts were valid, constantly trying to reassure himself that Lipsky understood where he, Wallace, was coming from. The entire book was just a straight-up transcription of Lipsky's tapes, with pretty much no added commentary save the introduction and a few off the cuff remarks about things like Wallace's facial expression as he says something. I found myself gritting my teeth with jealousy whenever it was indicated that either man had turned the tape off, which happened pretty frequently, especially as they bonded and came towards the end of the tour. Whenever Wallace needed to parse through a thought, or tell Lipsky something too personal, he would shut the tape off, and I would find myself bending the corners of the book, thinking, "What?!? TELL ME YOUR SECRETS."

It was great. I love it. I want to carry this book around in a Bjorn. Amanda, take note.

Okay, I think that's it. I haven't been reading nearly enough since I got home, mostly because I got Netflix back. But I will update and blah blah.